


Thicker Than Blood

by Mangacat



Series: Blood!Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Minor Violence, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-24
Updated: 2010-10-24
Packaged: 2017-11-05 10:38:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/405486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mangacat/pseuds/Mangacat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam let his brother walk into danger knowing that Dean would be able to deal with what was thrown his way. But what if Dean’s control isn’t good enough to stay ahead of his needs?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thicker Than Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Major spoilers for Ep 6X5. Missing scene from ‘Live free and Twi-hard’.
> 
> A/N: I have absolutely no idea where that came from, (well, I know some people who might but…) anyway, I’m not taking responsibility. This is the first time I’ve written anything like that and I feel. Weird.

“Dean!”

_ thu-thump _

“I’m a monster; what is there to talk about?”

_ thu-thump _

“How does it feel?”

_ thu-thu… _

~*~

The world is a haze. It’s like he’s wearing glasses that make everything blurry around the edges and too sharp in focus. But it’s his other senses that cause him even more trouble: 

The scent in the air that makes his mouth water…

The taste of copper in his mouth that hasn’t left since he’s been… 

That unbelievably steady beat that calls to him like a drum, echoing in his bones… 

The feel of the poison spreading through his body, changing him cell by cell, rotting him to the core…

The sudden, visceral ache in his gums narrows his world for a split second and he bolts to the bathroom, throwing out a witty retort on the fly to gloss over the fact that he can feel his body vibrate down to its molecules as the turn is almost complete. A detatched part of his self sits back in his mind and observes with cool calculation how he becomes something he despises, fears, has sworn to _hunt._

~ _If I didn’t know you, I would wanna hunt you.~_

He looks into the mirror, pale face, light sheen of sweat, perfect face he wants to smash in so bad right now. A quick check reveals the needle tip of a honest to God fang edging out of his flesh and the disgust he feels rakes up another notch. In an attempt to steady his threading countenance with a familiar motion, he washes his hands, water flowing over his heated skin sluggishly before he turns off the faucet again. He only notices the sharp edge on the side when it’s too late and he has nicked the skin of his finger on it. It’s nothing, just enough to bring one drop of blood to the surface, but suddenly the whole world falls away, focusing solely on the beading red liquid on his finger tip. It’s his blood, it’s dark red and looks just like any other time he’s seen it – and there’s plenty of those. It should look different, darker, lighter, _black as sin_ , but it still looks like always did, covering up the vicious threat it represents now. 

Time slows down to the point where he can watch the drop become too heavy to be balanced on his finger and his ears even pick up the little blip it makes as the liquid succumbs to gravity and slowly falls down into the sink. It lands with a splash that sounds like an earthquake to him, forming a perfect circle on the porcelain rim for a second. Transfixed, he stares at it, disbelieving, motionless before curiosity compells him to lower his hand and dip his finger into the blood. The shock runs through his whole body, fire in his veins travelling in its wake and his instant reaction is to roar in pain as _hunger_ unfurls in his belly. By the time he stumbles backwards against the opposite wall, the door already slams open and that delicious scent travels up his nose. 

_ ~This, this is what you’re gonna become!~ _

“Dean, what the fuck did you do?”

He is shaking both with unrelenting tremors and the physical effort that is required to keep from draining Sam were he stands. His brother’s eyes dart all over the bathroom, but they fix on the smear of red on the sink almost immediately, going wide at the sight. Sam grasps the lapels of his shirt and drags him out of the bathroom a second later, closing the door with a well-aimed kick of his boot. 

“Did you take it, did you take any?”

Sam’s hand moves up from his shirt to the back of his neck, fingers splaying wide into his hair, across his jaw, and he can barely move, notices that his hands have clamped around Sam’s elbows like a vice. And suddenly it’s there, after a moment of deafening silence….

_ Thu-thum-thu-thum-thu-thump thu-thu-thu-thuthuththththuuthump _

He locks eyes with Sam and sees that there’s something else, something Sam’s not telling him, but it’s all drowned out by the racing heart – the detatched part of himself sits up and registers that this is the first genuine reaction he’s gotten from Sam for… ever since he’s come back. The undiluted need burns in his blood, a force so raw and all encompassing, a drive he hasn’t felt since the last time he picked up that knife…

_ Torture maim kill – want take have _

He is terrified and can’t put it into words, anytime he tries only garbled sounds leave his mouth where his barely-formed fangs quiver with the need to slide down and rip, pierce, draw blood, and he can’t wait, _can’t hold on, can’t, can’t, can’t, won’t…_

But Sam sees it all reflected in his eyes, the way his mouth falls open, the taut tension snapping through his body, fitting them together, heat radiating between them. Sam’s eyes darken in turn with something that could be hellfire… if hell had frozen over. 

_ ~We were never gonna be normal, we were never gonna get away.~ _

Before he has the chance to figure out what’s going to happen next, how he can get himself killed before draining anyone, Sam takes the initiative and smashes their lips together in the mockery of a kiss with bruising force. The move catches him completely off guard as this is not what he really wants right now, but the burning contact skin on skin amplified by his new senses and the pulse he can feel through the thin barrier of his lips is so close to it. Arousal spikes alongside the hunger and singes off the edges. Primal instinct wars with the last shred of control and then he has no choice but to tunnel that endless energy down one path. The decision hangs there for a split second and then the universe jarrs into motion again and Sam smashes face first into the nearest wall, hands next to his eyes and legs kicked apart in one fluid move. He doesn’t make a sound, convinced that this bubble of unreality they suddenly find themselves in will shatter and someone else will die tonight. Instead he pours all his concentration into what he does next, tricking his body into thinking that what he is going to get is acutally the relief it so desperately seeks. There’s no room for niceties, no time for second thoughts. He didn’t start this, but he’s damn well going to finish it. 

__

_ ~ _ _ You can either roll over and die or you can keep fighting, no matter what. _ _ ~ _

He shoves his hands under Sam’s shirt, rucking it up and over his head in a way that traps Sam’s arms against the wall and Sam lets it happen, stands loose and confident, presenting the smooth expanse of his back like it’s an offering in worship. He rakes his nails down from the shoulderblades all the way to the waistband of Sam’s jeans and revels in the shiver it causes. The heart beat is still thunderous and fast in his ears, but it’s steady now, exuding arrogance and a twisted kind of trust. The closed-off corner of his mind realizes that even at the receiving end of things, Sam is still in charge, using his body like a bargaining chip, as a means to an end. Cold, hard fury settles inside his stomach next to hunger and lust. He can barely contain it to keep it from breaking his concentration, so he pours it in alongside the other two where his hands are doing their best to leave finger-shaped bruises on Sam’s hips. He places his lips on the golden skin, tracing hard muscles with his tongue, pausing over a spot right next to Sam’s spine. He sucks the blood right to the surface yet never breaks the skin. It’s just a hair’s breadth short of the real thing, just like having Sam sit in the car next to him again is a hair’s breadth short of the real thing, too. 

_ ~Deep down, you know that you can’t save your brother.~ _

If it wasn’t for his new awareness, he wouldn’t be able to catch on to how the use of his mouth – playing with fire – is breaking through Sam’s defences. Tension running skin-deep like a taut bowstring, a slight hitch of breath, a flutter of eyelashes. These little tokens fill him with malicious satisfaction and a glimmer of hope in the deepest recess of his soul. But it’s time to cut the chase and get down business. He brings his hands around to open Sam’s jeans and then sinks to his knees gracefully, dragging the fabric down just enough to reveal a set of flawless buttocks, smooth and firm to the touch. A new scent of arousal suddenly pierces the haze around his mind and he can do nothing but latch to the spot above the tailbone, unthinking, acting purely on instinct, chasing that taste until he finds his prize. He laves the tender skin, breaching the opening with his tongue, aware how easy it would be to just slide out his fangs and pierce the skin, draw blood, end this right now. 

_ ~It’s supposed to be you and me against the world, right?~ _

This is not about right or wrong any more than it is about the bigger picture. This is just between them both, a settlement that is long overdue. The thought about how unbreachable distance can be when you’re this close to each other flits through his head for a moment, but it’s gone before he can grasp it along with his patience. He roughly slides two fingers in alongside his tongue and scissors them with a few vicious twists. The choked off moan he gets in response is enough to light up all his nerve endings and suddenly he can’t wait for another second. Fumbling with his belt, he gets up and drapes the whole length of his body against Sam’s backside. When he finally slides in it’s too tight, too fast, too dry 

… _too little too late …_

but he can’t hold back, not now, not ever, finally claiming what’s his and even if it’s fractured and broken and lies, deceit, dissonance, it’s love… it’s burning love that only leaves ashes in its wake. 

He moves in a rolling motion, hard, fast, unrelenting, in time with that threading beat and it’s his, his, _his and noone else’s…_

__

_ ~Do you know how far you’ve gone from normal, from human?~ _

__

He revels in the exertion of his movements yet barely breaks a sweat. Sam’s skin however, is slick with moisture, making his hands slip over it with ease. Finally, he brings them around to Sam’s chest, feeling the play of strong muscles under the golden skin. He slides his fingers up, thumbing over hardened nubs, which makes Sam tighten around him so deliciously for a moment. In the end, he grasps Sam’s shoulders, splays his hands on them to draw Sam back into a carnal embrace, dragging him down hard in time with his thrusts. He watches Sam’s head tilt and his eyes roll up into his head and knows that this is as close to completition as he’s ever going to get again. The release blindsides him and he can’t do anything but hold on, shuddering, stunned, waiting for the high to slowly ebb. The hunger is still gnawing in his belly, but the overwhelming need is gone. He’s reluctant to break the contact now, to let it end for real. Still, as more and more of his conscious thoughts come back to him, realization sets in about what he’s _done._ How far he’s _gone._

Sam twists around slightly and catches his eyes over his shoulder. He feels exposed, measured, assessed with that one cold look and suddenly feels nothing at all. 

_ ~It’s the little things. The secrets. The lies.~ _

Later, when Dean lies there as the poison works itself out of his system and his life suddenly rolls backwards, things fall into place with a crushing finality. He’s left with the answers he doesn’t know the questions for and the aching desire to go back to the time when it was just them. 

The time when he could read the world in his brother’s eyes. 

The end   
  



End file.
